waiting game
by bravevulnerability
Summary: "Why don't you show me how much you'll miss me instead?" A requested insert for Human Factor (5x23) and Watershed (5x24). One shot.


**A/N: **Set between Human Factor (5x23) and Watershed (5x24)

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Kate sets the book down on her knees and scrubs her hands over her face, trying to rid herself of the weariness that seems to have settled deep in her bones. She's been living with this impending sense of doom for almost a month now. Ever since the case with Eric Vaughn, ever since Jared Stack had shoved the idea of a job in DC into her brain, ever since Castle had failed to give her an answer to one of the most important questions she's ever asked in their relationship.

_Where are we going?_

The fear of her relationship with Castle crumbling has only grown stronger. She doesn't want them to fall apart, to implode, but maybe it's inevitable.

Shaking her head, shaking off the depressing thoughts, Kate rises from the couch, abandoning the book she's been trying to read for the last hour and meanders her way towards Castle's office. He's supposed to be writing, she knows he's far behind on his latest deadline, but his current position resembles hers of only moments ago - staring but not seeing the page in front of him.

"Hey," she calls softly, and he glances up to her with a smile. He loves her, she can see that so clearly in the lift of his lips and the light of his eyes, but she's terrified that it may not be enough.

"Hey," he returns. "What's up?"

She shrugs, drifts closer until she's standing next to him and he's spinning his office chair to look up at her. Castle's hands skim her outer thighs as he leans forward, fingers brushing up and down the fabric of her leggings. He needs to write, she needs to think, but when his fingertips press into the backs of her thighs, she concedes to the touch and folds herself forward, into a straddle on his lap.

"I think I'm going to stay at my place tonight," she murmurs, tucking her head at his shoulder, nuzzling her nose against the side of his throat.

"But we have the loft to ourselves tonight," he protests, sounding disappointed and a little hurt by her decision, and she lifts her head, dusts her lips over the pout claiming his mouth.

"I know, but it would give you a chance to write without any distractions," she points out, her voice small and unconvincing, and he furrows his brow.

"Kate." He says her name with concern and it makes her heart ache. "Is something wrong?"

"No," she answers too quickly. "I'm just… tired."

It isn't a lie.

He looks reluctant to believe her and she lifts her fingers to his face, smoothing her thumb along the crease of his brow, trying to reassure him when she can't even reassure herself.

She glances to his laptop, sees the blank sheet of the word document, the blinking cursor in the middle of the screen. Maybe some time apart would be good for the both of them, but even if that's true, she really doesn't _want_ to leave.

"Kate," he repeats her name, trailing fingers over her cheeks, under her eyes, as if he's prepared to catch an unexpected stream of tears at any second. But she doesn't want this to be sad, she's not leaving forever, just for a single night.

So why does it feel so much like it could be their last time?

His hands fly to her hips in surprise when she rocks into him, urgent and sharp, yearning for him to wipe her mind clean with the press of his body, to eradicate the traitorous doubts, to remind her how good they are together.

"I could give you some inspiration," she husks, finding the shell of his ear with her teeth, laving the delicate cartilage with her tongue. "Before I go."

"Or you could stay," he tries to compromise, but his words are unsteady like his breathing. "Inspire me all night."

Kate shakes her head and nips along his jawline, scraping over stubble and skin, reveling in his sharp intake of breath. Her hands trail down his chest, nails scratching the fabric of his t-shirt, and curl at the waistband of his jeans.

"Why don't you show me how much you'll miss me instead."

He groans and reaches for the hem of her shirt, tugging the soft material up her body and drawing it over her head when she leans back to sit on his knees. She's in a plain cotton bra, black with a tiny white bow between the breasts, but his eyes glide over her as if she's wearing her best lingerie. His fingers skid up her spine, unhook the clasp with ease, and toss the thin material in the direction of his bedroom.

Her hips buck when his warm palms cup her breasts, thumbs circling her nipples, making her hum with sensation. This, she thinks, is what they excel at most. He knows how to touch her, reads her body with his hands like braille, and she knows how to do the exact same in return. They know this dance better than they know each other, and it's not enough. Not enough for the forever she wants with him.

She surges forward, clutching his face between her hands and kissing him hard, hoping he can taste the desperation on her tongue, in the frantic move of her lips. She hopes he can taste how much she wants this to work, how much she wants_ them_ to work, because her heart is here, with him, not in DC. But she needs more, needs to know where they're going, what their future could hold.

"Kate, Kate, Kate," he pants, splaying his hands over the smooth plains of her naked back. "Slow down, slow-"

"I don't want to slow down," she practically keens, pulling his bottom lip between her teeth and pushing his shirt up his stomach. "I want you, just you, Castle, _please_-"

He quiets her with the press of his mouth, capturing her lips, soothing her distraught pleas with the slow stroke of his tongue, the gentle scrape of his teeth. His hands slide under her thighs and she locks her legs around his waist when he rises from his chair, carrying her to the bedroom.

He lays her down on the bed, drapes her body over the still rumpled sheets from this morning, and takes his time following her down, stealing a moment to stare down at her, rake his eyes over her heaving chest, over the valleys and hills of skin he knows so well. She closes her eyes in anticipation, and maybe so he won't see the distress hiding in them.

She feels Castle's fingers hook around her leggings and lifts her hips so he can drag the material down her legs. He places his open mouth to each newly revealed patch of flesh, sending goosebumps scrambling up her legs and stroking the flame growing in the pit of her stomach. She opens her eyes when her leggings and underwear, along with his mouth, have disappeared from her skin and he still hasn't covered her body with his own.

His jeans are gone, but his boxers are still in place, and he doesn't seem to have any plans of joining her just yet. He's still kneeling at the edge of the bed, where she already knows he'll crawl between her legs, make her body explode with heat, but she doesn't want that. She just wants him.

"Rick," she croaks, watching that furrow of concern line his brow once more as he meets her eyes. He _knows _something's off, but she doesn't know how to put any of it into words that won't hurt him. She's hurt him so much in that past, she can't handle the wounded little boy look tonight. And maybe that makes her a coward, but it doesn't stop her from rising on her elbows and snagging the band of his boxers.

Castle doesn't fight the tug of her fingers and finally falls into the bed with her, the warm weight of his body settling over her, so good, just what she needs. Her arms coil around the bare flesh blanketing hers, fingers burying in his hair, lips touching wherever they can reach - his collarbone, the line of his throat, his chin.

Her legs rise to his waist, toes push at the boxers still at his hips, and he finally - _finally -_shoves the expensive material down, tosses it away. His elbows bracket her head and his fingers twine in the silk strands of her hair as he kisses her, grazing his lips over hers once before migrating to the fluttering lids of her eyes.

Moisture gathers behind the feather soft press of his lips and she buries her face in his neck in an effort to hide the tears clinging to her lashes, distracts him with the insistent roll of her hips and the breathy demand in his ear for more.

He doesn't deny her, aligns himself at her entrance and joins their bodies a second later. She gasps as he fills her, and holds him still for just a second, clinging to his frame and savoring this moment where the thought of them apart seems unfathomable.

He draws out of her slowly before pushing back in, gliding inside and drawing the whimper from her throat. He picks up a rhythm, slow and reverent and she digs her heels into his lower back, clenches around him, hard enough to make him groan. He knows how to make her scream, they've had deliciously rough sex plenty of times, and she wants that right now. She wants the greedy plundering of his mouth, the hard clash of his hips, the biting sting of his teeth on her skin. She wants to forget.

Kate rolls her hips again, a deliberate grind that makes them both gasp, but he still refuses to hurry his pace, dragging his lips along the slope of her chest, teasing the burning tips of her breasts with his teeth, swirling over the pucker of her scar with his tongue - dead set on an aching tenderness that makes her want to cry.

"Castle," she chants, grinding her teeth to refrain from moaning his name. "Castle, you have to - can't-" His mouth covers hers and she opens for him without hesitation, allowing his tongue inside, moaning around the demanding exploration and the frissons of intensifying pleasure that spark through every inch of her body.

His hand slips beneath her back, sweeps over the layer of sweat pooling there, and sends her body arching higher. Her legs tighten at his waist, her arms cling strong and secure to his shoulders, and she's practically hovering above the sheets now, barely brushing the Egyptian cotton as he rocks into her, circles his hips over hers and coaxes her closer to the edge.

His name falls from her lips on a low moan, breathless and grief-stricken, and the sound evokes a change in his pace - renewed determination in every thrust, devotion in every kiss he paints to her shoulder, and she turns her face into his cheek, whispers her love like secrets in his ear.

She feels the shudder climb his spine, the hand at her back digs into her skin, bruising the small of her back. The ripples of release begin to spread from between her legs and she jerks harder into him to feel more, hears him grunt, and suddenly she's pressed deep into the mattress, sobbing his name and coming hard around him just before he spills inside her.

White-hot arousal washes her mind clean and for a second of brilliant pleasure, she's able to lay with him in bliss. But eventually, the beauty of their connection fades, reality creeping back in and burdening her with her fears of the future.

Words from over a year ago, words he spoke to her out of spite, flicker through her mind, and she wishes she was the fun and uncomplicated woman he had claimed to want back then. She wishes she could be content with what she has, wishes she didn't selfishly crave more. But they both deserved more than fun and uncomplicated, didn't they?

Castle dusts his lips over her eyebrow and she tilts her face upwards, presses her lips to the stretch of skin above her without opening her eyes, catching his chin in a kiss. The lids of her eyes peel back to see him hovering, lingering above her, watching her almost curiously.

He looks as if he's wary of her, afraid to say the wrong thing, and she realizes she's seen this look before. Quite often actually. Maybe he's just as scared as she is, equally terrified of screwing up this wonderful but tentative thing between them. Maybe if they just _talked_ for once-

"Well," he murmurs with a small grin, swiping his thumb over the swollen flesh of her lips, tracing down the line of her jaw. "I'm definitely feeling inspired."

Rick rolls off of her and the surge of courage that had swelled within her fades, the moment gone and she hates herself for it, but the opportunity will arise again, it has to, and she swears that the next time, she will seize the moment. Next time.

As if on autopilot, her body rises from mattress and begins roaming the room, gathering her discarded clothes. She dresses with her back to him, but feels his eyes follow her every movement. When she turns, he wears a frown, something mournful claiming his eyes, but he exaggerates the look once he notices her, turns the downturned curve of his lips into a petulant pout for her.

"Are you sure you want to go?"

Despite the whine of his voice, the question makes her heart tighten when it shouldn't and she rubs at the scar between her breasts, traces slow circles over the marred strip of skin that throbs beneath her fingertips. _Self-soothing_, Burke had called it when he had noticed her thoughtlessly indulging the habit during one of their sessions a few weeks ago. She's trying to soothe her heart and it's not working. It never does.

"It's just one night," she reasons quietly, pulling her hair up into a messy bun atop her head, securing it with a loose rubber band. "I'll see you first thing tomorrow, at the precinct."

He nods as he sits up and she props a knee at the edge of the mattress, frames his face with trembling fingers and kisses him deep and thorough. He sweeps a hand over her cheek, cups her nape and squeezes for a split second before he lets her go.

Kate tilts her forehead to his, resting for just a second, and nudges her nose against his.

"Castle?" His eyes flicker up to her, lashes colliding with hers. "You know I love you, right?"

He smiles, soft and loving, but there's a hint of sadness, a trace of melancholy that she's brought into their bed and can no longer shake.

"I love you back, Kate. I'll see you tomorrow."

She takes a breath, thankful that it doesn't quiver past her lips, and nods as she pulls away. She slips on her coat at the front door, steps into her ballet flats, and uses the key he gave her to lock the door once she's standing outside. She hesitates before she reaches the elevator, glancing back over her shoulder at the closed door, the entryway to her second home. Her real home.

Kate bites her lip and stabs the call button with her finger. She'll see him tomorrow, right after she gets back from her interview in DC.

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**This was inspired by a prompt sent to me on tumblr, which I wasn't sure I would be able to fill,** but the idea eventually became rooted in my brain and then I _had _to write it. So thank you, anon, hope you enjoyed. ****


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